


don't go without me

by inkquell



Category: Monsta X (Band), No.MERCY (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkquell/pseuds/inkquell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change for Gunhee after Jooheon gets eliminated. </p><p>Based on <a href="http://mx-promptmeme.livejournal.com/1258.html?thread=1770#t1770">this</a> prompt: Set during No Mercy era. AU where Gunhee doesn’t get eliminated, but Jooheon does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't go without me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for anxiety, implied homophobia, and sexual content. If there are any other warnings you think I should tag, just let me know.

Gunhee's name is called third. His feet are lead when he steps onto the platform, holding his breath to calm his frantically thumping heart. He should feel relieved, happy even, but he can’t. Not yet. Jooheon’s name hasn’t been called.

“Hyungwon.”

The fourth name is called and it’s not Jooheon’s. 

Gunhee watches Hyungwon stride onto the platform beside Kihyun before quickly glancing behind his shoulder at Jooheon. His head is down, eyes trained on the floor. Gunhee wishes he’d look up, look back at him, but he doesn’t. Gunhee turns away. The spotlight feels scorching hot on the back of his neck. His heart flutters like it’s shaking inside his chest. Gunhee hears an intake of breath ring out over the sound system and he knows the next name is about to be called.

“Wonho.” 

The fifth name is called and it’s not Jooheon’s.

Hoseok finds a spot on the platform next to Hyunwoo.

“I.M.” 

The sixth name is called and it’s not Jooheon’s. 

Changkyun keeps his head down as he walks towards the front of the stage. Tears are shining in the corners of his eyes. Gunhee’s breath catches in his throat. Are there three rappers or two? Three rappers? Or two?

“And the final trainee is—”

Gunhee feels a pang of panic in his chest.

“—Minhyuk.” 

The seventh name is called and it’s not Jooheon’s. 

Gunhee’s heart drops to his stomach.

Minhyuk finds his place on the platform.

Gunhee looks over at Jooheon.

He feels like he can’t breath all over again.

After a few seconds of silence that feel much longer, Jooheon brings the microphone to his lips. Gunhee can’t hear what he says over the blood pounding in his ears. Jooheon still won’t look at him. He passes Gunhee as he leaves the stage and doesn’t even glance at him.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Seokwon says to Gunhee as he passes too, but he’s barely listening.

Then they’re both gone. Just like that. 

There’s confetti. The judges congratulate them. They each have an opportunity to say something. Gunhee speaks into his mic, barely aware of what he’s saying, and then it’s over. All of it is over. Gunhee’s legs shake when he steps off the platform. He congratulates Hyunwoo and Hoseok, Kihyun and Minhyuk, but his mind is elsewhere.

“Where’s Jooheon?” Gunhee asks, almost frantic. 

Minhyuk’s face falls. “I think I saw him go in there somewhere.”

Gunhee wanders backstage to find him. 

When Jooheon spots Gunhee walking towards him, his lip trembles and his head drops to his chest, like he’s trying to sink into himself. Gunhee doesn’t know what else to do but wrap his arms around Jooheon’s shoulders and pull him closer. He doesn’t know what else to say but “Fuck, Jooheon, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jooheon’s body shakes as he tries desperately to stop himself from sobbing against Gunhee’s shoulder. He fists his hands around the fabric of Gunhee’s jacket.

“Gunhee—” Jooheon starts like he’s about to congratulate him (Gunhee doesn’t know if he could even take that right now) but his voice fails him. Nothing more than a whimper comes out instead. Jooheon clenches his teeth, but it’s not much defence against the sob that tears through his throat. Jooheon’s tears feel hot as they soak through Gunhee’s collar.

Gunhee doesn’t know what to do. They didn’t plan for this. He never thought this would happen, that he would make it without Jooheon. He considered the idea that both of them would make it, or neither, or even Jooheon making it without him, but he never though he'd make it without Jooheon. Jooheon was supposed to win this thing. Gunhee doesn’t understand what happened. 

Silently, Gunhee rubs circles into the small of his back to calm him down. After a few minutes, Jooheon’s violent trembling subsides into sniffles that soon turn into slow, even breaths. Jooheon pulls away to rub at his eyes. 

“Gunhee,” he begins, now that he’s able to speak again, “You really deserve this. Don’t be sorry, you deserve this.” 

Gunhee steps forward, but a hand grips his shoulder. It’s one of the PDs. She hesitantly tells him it’s his turn for an interview, tapping her pen against a clipboard and adjusting her headset. Jooheon braves a half smile and waves Gunhee away, but the lasting wetness on his cheeks betrays his otherwise composed expression. It’s only when Gunhee is sitting on a couch, in a dark room somewhere backstage, in front of three different cameras and the production crew, that he allows the tears to fall.

—

Jooheon moves out one week later. Seokwon moves out a few days prior, sooner than anyone expects, rushing through his goodbyes before anyone has time to get upset. Everyone exchanges hugs, as well as apologies and reassurances and promises to see one another as much as they can. The dorm feels emptier when he leaves, hollow, quieter. Gunhee fears how empty it will feel when Jooheon is gone too.

Gunhee sits crosslegged on the floor of their shared room and helps him pack his things. Hats, blankets, a couple books Jooheon hasn’t had the chance to read yet, fan gifts, plushies, all folded and stuffed messily into a big black suitcase and brown cardboard boxes.

“I think this might be the last of it,” Jooheon says, dumping a pile of clothes on the floor.

Gunhee reaches for a black t-shirt underneath a rumpled up pair of jeans.

“Isn’t this mine?” he asks and holds it out to him.

Jooheon looks up from the sweater he’s folding. “Oh, yeah. You can have it back.”

“No, that’s okay,” Gunhee says. Guilt curls, hot and white, inside his stomach. “Keep it.” 

Under different circumstances, he would have taken it back, but not right now.

They haven’t talked about it, but Gunhee knows Jooheon is thinking over what’s happened. He’s far too quiet, too distracted, too passive when Gunhee tries to make jokes or tease him like he always has. But so much has changed in the last couple months, Gunhee doesn’t blame him. It feels false to attempt normalcy so soon.

Once they’ve packed the rest of Jooheon’s clothes in boxes, Gunhee stacks them against the door with the rest. He only realizes afterwards that he’s barricaded the both of them inside, then reluctantly moves the boxes over. He doesn’t want Jooheon to leave. 

“Oh, almost forgot these.” Jooheon stands up and leans inside his bunk. He hesitantly thumbs at the line of photographs taped against the wall: an old photo of Jooheon in his school uniform that’s tearing around the edges, a picture of his parents' house, a group photo of all the Starship trainees together back before ‘No Mercy’ started. “Changkyun probably wants to put his own shit here,” he says melancholically. 

Gunhee stops him. “Don’t worry about it. Leave them up, I’ll—” Gunhee swallows. “I’ll tell Changkyun to take my bunk instead. I can switch to yours,” he says, then after a moment, “It’ll be weird not having you around.”

It’ll be weird waking up without Jooheon sleeping five feet away, Gunhee thinks. It’ll be weird never hearing his laugh echo through the dorm. It’ll be weird not arguing with him about shower times, or when Gunhee eats his snacks without asking. It’ll be weird because Gunhee will miss him, and he doesn't know what that feels like. 

Gunhee voices none of this.

“Yeah, weird.” Jooheon smiles a little. “Hey, at least I won’t have to listen to you snore anymore,” he teases.

“I do _not_ snore,” Gunhee shouts.

A laugh bursts through Jooheon’s lips, but it somehow makes Gunhee feel worse. The familiar feeling of guilt creeps back up inside him. He doesn’t want Jooheon to leave. 

With nothing left to do, they sit across from each other on the floor, talking but not saying much. Jooheon sits with his back against the mattress of his bunk and Gunhee sits beside him, leaning against his bed post. 

This is the last time they’ll do this. Gunhee can’t believe it. It doesn’t feel real. It didn’t feel real when Gunhee’s name was called when Jooheon’s wasn’t, and it doesn’t feel real now, knowing they won’t debut together like they always promised. But Gunhee knows it’ll feel all too real once he gets on that stage and Jooheon isn’t beside him.

He doesn’t want Jooheon to leave.

Gunhee doesn’t know what comes over him when he closes the space between them. He swipes his tongue over his chapped lips and Jooheon looks up at him, his eyes giving away nothing. Gunhee’s heart pounds. Thump, thump, thump. 

_He doesn’t want Jooheon to leave._

He leans in and kisses him.

Jooheon’s lips are warm and soft slotted between Gunhee’s, but stiff and unmoving. Gunhee almost pulls away, terrified he’s done something wrong, when Jooheon sighs into the kiss and parts his lips ever so slightly. Gunhee presses their mouths harder together. He feels the force of Jooheon pressing into him back. Gunhee’s hands come up to rest on the sides of his neck when Jooheon abruptly breaks the kiss. He quickly moves away from Gunhee’s touch, avoiding his eyes completely. A mixture of shame and confusion paints his face.

Terror settles inside Gunhee again. “Fuck, Jooheon—”

Footsteps sound outside their bedroom door. Panicked, Jooheon pushes Gunhee away. It’s enough force to send Gunhee off balance and falling flat onto his ass. Kihyun immediately walks in, offering to help Jooheon move his things into the living room before he gets picked up. 

"Do you need help with all these boxes?" Kihyun asks. His forehead creases when he sees Gunhee in the middle of the floor and Jooheon flustered next to him, but if he knows, he doesn’t say anything. 

"Yeah, um, sure,” Jooheon says.

Gunhee runs a hand through his hair and tries to breath again. 

He doesn’t want Jooheon to leave.

—

Jooheon leaves. 

They hardly speak between the time it takes to get Jooheon’s things out the door and load them into his mother’s car. Their goodbye is expectedly somber. Minhyuk and Hoseok try to lighten the mood by jokingly smothering Jooheon with affection. He laughs as he brushes them off, but the atmosphere remains heavy. Gunhee is too afraid to say much of anything. He’s afraid it will incriminate himself in front of the others, or give Jooheon an opportunity to reject him, or yell at him, or confuse their situation further. 

He stands by while Jooheon says his goodbyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jooheon reassures everyone as he hugs Hyunwoo, then Kihyun and Minhyuk, Hoseok and Hyungwon next. “You can’t think you’d get rid of me that easily.”

Jooheon briefly pulls Changkyun into his arms too. “You have to work hard, yeah?”

“Okay, hyung.”

When he gets to Gunhee, he pauses. Gunhee finds himself holding his breath like he did up on that platform, under the burning spotlight and the eyes of the judges. He breaths again as soon as Jooheon’s arms wrap around his neck and his nose fits into the plane of his shoulder. He feels stiff like he did when Gunhee kissed him, and soon enough he’s pulling away again, avoiding his eyes. Gunhee’s heart drops. 

“I’ll see you guys soon,” Jooheon says.

He’s still not looking at Gunhee.

And then he’s not looking at Gunhee because he’s gone. 

—

Almost another week passes before Jooheon calls Gunhee and asks if he wants to meet up, offering to buy him coffee at the café across the street from the company building. It’s still winter, below zero in temperature, so Gunhee bundles up in a hat and scarf, but forgets to wear gloves. They brave the cold and sit outside, just to be safe, finding a park bench out front where they can talk and no one will overhear. 

Gunhee warms his palms against his paper coffee cup. He’s already drunk a quarter of it before they say more than a string of words to each other.

“So, how are things?” Gunhee asks. It sounds like the wrong thing to say after what happened, but he doesn’t know what else to ask him. 

“Busy,” Jooheon says, then takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ve been trying to settle in. It’s nice to see my parents again, and my brother. Um, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Gunhee agrees. “Practice, mostly. I’ve been working on some songs.” 

Jooheon nods, but doesn't ask him about it. It’s unlike him to ignore an opportunity to discuss music. Gunhee pretends it doesn’t sting him as much as it does.

Jooheon grows quiet. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again like he’s working up the courage or finding the right words. Gunhee braces himself for whatever he’s about to hear, but what Jooheon asks still hits him with the force of a ten ton truck. 

"Why did you kiss me?"

“Jooheon…” 

Jooheon won’t let him avoid it. ”Why did you kiss me?” he demands.

Gunhee freezes. He's thought about their kiss everyday since it happened, but he didn't understand it himself until now, until Jooheon is staring right through him, until his presence in the space beside him is the most comfort Gunhee has felt in days. 

"You were leaving," Gunhee begins, looking down at his hands. His fingers are pink and raw from the cold. He rubs them together. "I panicked, I guess. I thought… I thought it would make you stay."

Jooheon must be expecting a different answer because he pulls away, shocked. 

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he says after a minute, dropping his head into his hands. “What if someone finds out? You debut in the next few months. Do you know what would happen if people knew?" 

An answer refuses to formulate on Gunhee’s tongue. Something heavy and ugly weighs in his chest, banging up against his ribcage. Guilt? Shame? Anger? He only feels like he can breath when Jooheon meets his eyes, but the defeated look on his face steals the air from Gunhee’s lungs again. It feels like he’s falling from fifteen stories up. 

If anyone found out, it would be all over for the both of them. Everything they’ve worked for would be on the line. Gunhee wonders what his mother would say if she knew, not to mention the members of the group he’s now set to debut with. Gunhee instantly feels disgusted at himself for impulsively forgetting to consider what might happen afterwards, ashamed and embarrassed and selfish because Jooheon doesn’t feel the same way. He’s about to apologize, but then he pauses, realizing something.

"But you kissed me back," Gunhee says, mostly to himself. 

"Huh?" 

" _You_ kissed me back," Gunhee says again, louder this time so Jooheon will hear. 

Colour drains from Jooheon's face. "It doesn't matter,” he says.

But he kissed Gunhee back. _He kissed him back._

“‘It doesn’t matter’," Gunhee repeats, almost mocking, but the words tear at his gut. His stomach churns like he’s going to be sick. “What the hell do you know?” 

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Jooheon spits back. “It’s not worth it, Gunhee. This can’t work.”

The question slips past Gunhee’s lips before he can catch it. “Would you want it to?”

Jooheon looks away to stare at the coffee in his hands, caught off guard. “Gunhee, I don’t know,” he says after a minute. 

Gunhee presses further, unsympathetic. “If it could, would you want it to work?” 

“Gunhee, I can’t do this—I have to go.”

Without another word, Jooheon stands up from the park bench, shoves his hands in his coat pockets, and walks away. 

—

Days pass before Gunhee finds enough courage to see Jooheon again.

But he knows where to find him. 

Jooheon’s work room is tucked away in the far corner of the first floor, across from the trainee practice rooms and a row of lockers. Gunhee’s locker still sits right beside Jooheon’s. He spots Kwangji, Yoosu, Yoonho, and Minkyun’s as well. He stops there for a minute, thinking and overthinking what he should say to Jooheon. It was a mistake to wait this long to talk to him, thoughts becoming more jumbled the longer he let them sit inside his head.

Gunhee knocks once. There’s a piece of paper taped over the door’s porthole shaped window, so it’s impossible to see inside, but Gunhee knows Jooheon is in there. He’s there most nights. 

Gunhee knocks twice. “Jooheon?” he calls. The door is thin enough for Jooheon to hear him on the other side. “I just want to talk.”

Twenty seconds pass with no answer. Gunhee is wondering if Jooheon can’t hear him after all (or maybe he just doesn’t want to see him) when the door finally opens. Jooheon stands there in the doorway, a black hoodie pulled over his head and a face mask tucked underneath his chin. Gunhee doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to be the first one to speak. Jooheon lifts the burden from him. 

“Hey.” Jooheon opens the door wider. “You can, um, come in if you want.”

Gunhee steps inside and the door swings closed behind him. It’s a bit cramped with the two of them, but it’s one of the only places they can be alone. Jooheon leans against his desk. There’s a music program opened on his computer, beats and soundbites represented by purple, green, and blue bars. 

“Are you working on something?” Gunhee asks, peering over at the screen. 

Jooheon nods.

“Can I hear it?”

“It’s not good enough yet,” he says. “Maybe when it’s finished.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Gunhee says, then after a moment, “Are you still pissed off?”

Jooheon almost smiles. “I’m pissed off about a lot of things, but not you Gunhee.” 

“I’m sorry, Jooheon, about everything,” Gunhee says. After Jooheon was eliminated, all he could do was apologize. He realizes now that sorry won’t be enough to solder Jooheon’s wounds, but he says it anyways in case it’ll relieve some pain. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Jooheon insists. “You’re going to debut, Gun-ah. Be happy for yourself. You got what you wanted.”

“You think this is what I wanted?” Gunhee says in disbelief. “Do you really think I wanted to be thrown into a competition where I’d have to compete against people I’ve trained with for years? Do you think I wanted to watch my friends get thrown away like they’re worth nothing? Do you think I wanted to stand there on that stage and listen to them not call your name?” Tears burn the corners of Gunhee’s eyes. He blinks them away before they can fall. “I didn’t want this, Jooheon. None of us did. I wanted to debut, but even more than that I wanted to debut with _you._ ”

Jooheon stares at the ground. He looks too vulnerable right now, too fragile, like he could break into a thousand pieces at any moment. “We can’t do anything about that, Gun-ah,” he says. He sounds completely defeated. “We just have to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any less like shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Gunhee thinks about their kiss, remembering how terrified he was at the thought of losing Jooheon to something neither of them can control. Truthfully, he’s still feels that way. What will happen when he finally debuts? Will they be able to see each other? Will they lose touch? Will Jooheon forget about him? There are too many questions Gunhee needs answered, and only a few months left to figure everything out. Panic rises in the back of Gunhee’s throat, pushing words out that he can’t stop.

“It might not matter to you,” Gunhee begins, throat tight, “but when I kissed you I meant it.” Jooheon looks down at the ground. Gunhee wishes he would look back at him for once. “And I can’t take that back, y’know,” he continues. Every word has a forced steadiness. “I can’t take it back.”

Jooheon is quiet for a long time—too long. Nervousness creeps underneath Gunhee’s skin. He curls and uncurls his hands in his lap. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to, Gun-ah,” Jooheon says, almost pleadingly, finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to take it back.”

“Okay,” Gunhee promises. “I won’t.”

He leans into him. Their second kiss is softer, slower, desperate but less desperate than their first. Gunhee slides his hands around Jooheon’s waist, accidentally brushing skin underneath his hoodie and Jooheon wraps his arms around Gunhee’s neck. He parts his lips as Gunhee nips at his mouth.

“This is a stupid idea,” Jooheon says breathily when the kiss breaks. “But then again, when have our ideas ever been that smart?”

—

A month goes by.

Somehow they find time for each other. It’s easier to ignore the risk when Jooheon’s lips are on his, his hands riding up his shirt, the tips of his fingers moulding into his skin. Gunhee sees him more often than he initially expected. Sometimes he visits the practice room while the group goes over choreography, but usually he pulls Gunhee into his work room, pushes him against the wall, kissing him slow and rough until inevitably someone comes looking for him and Jooheon pulls away without a word.

Jooheon is scared. Gunhee can feel it in the way he only touches him when no one else is around, or tries to ignore him whenever they’re with the members and Gunhee catches his eyes too intently. Gunhee wishes he could reassure him when he has doubts, but he can’t. Jooheon’s fear is the only sane thing about any of this.

“What the hell are we doing, Gunhee?” Jooheon says one night, his breath hot against Gunhee’s skin and a hand laying flat across his stomach. Despite the apprehension of his words, Jooheon has Gunhee pressed against the door of his work room, his forehead resting in the crook of his neck, Gunhee’s come leaking warm and wet onto his fingers. 

Gunhee is still breathing heavy, his knees weak underneath him, slowly returning to himself after coming into the circle of Jooheon’s fist. “I don’t know, Jooheon,” he says, his voice uneven, unsure if Jooheon was really looking for an answer. Gunhee brushes his hair from his face, and kisses him, his teeth scraping against his top lip, rough and possessive. Gunhee feels Jooheon’s cock hard against his thigh when he pulls him closer.

“Jooheon, let me take care of you,” Gunhee says.

For some reason he expects Jooheon to reject him, but he only nods compliantly and leans into his touch. Gunhee quickly unzips Jooheon’s jeans and wraps his fingers around his cock. Jooheon gasps and buries his head deeper into the curve of Gunhee’s shoulder to muffle his groans, knowing someone could hear them. Gunhee steadily strokes him, twisting his wrist up and down in a constant rhythm. His other hand digs itself in Jooheon’s hair.

“Come on, Jooheon,” he begs, “I want you—I want you to come. Come for me. Please.” 

Jooheon’s hips buck forward as he spills into Gunhee’s fist, his legs shaking, a choked moan escaping his throat. Gunhee pumps him through it, simultaneously peppering kisses across his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. 

Gunhee grips Jooheon tightly. He doesn’t move for a long time. They stay pressed together until Jooheon pulls away, wiping his hand on his pants. Because of shame or embarrassment or something else, Jooheon refuses to meet Gunhee’s eyes. Frustrated, Gunhee slides his fingers underneath Jooheon’s chin and forces his head up.

“Look at me, Jooheonie,” Gunhee says, trying to find answers on his face. He narrows his eyes. “Are you alright?

Jooheon doesn’t say anything at first. 

“Please, you need to talk to me, Jooheon-ah.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Jooheon begins, panic rising in his voice, “But when I was looking for you earlier, I was calling your name. I didn’t realize anyone was around, and one of the managers came down the hall. He had this weird look on his face, as if he knew. I think he knows about us, Gunhee. I think he knows.”

“Jooheon, he doesn’t know. How the hell could he know?” Gunhee consoles, but he feels sick to his stomach at the possibility. “No one knows but us. Don’t worry.”

“Fuck,” Jooheon sighs, sinking further into Gunhee’s chest. “I’m scared, Gun-ah.”

“It’s okay, Jooheon.” Gunhee traces patterns down Jooheon’s back, trying to calm him down. “You’re okay. _We’re_ okay,” he says, then, “I love you, Jooheon. I love you. Nothing bad is going to happen. I love you.”

Jooheon takes a deep breath against Gunhee’s shoulder, but doesn’t say it back.

—

_I love you, Jooheon._

Since Gunhee voiced it out loud, it’s always there at the back of his mind, sitting, waiting, the words refusing to leave him alone. Gunhee thinks it every time he sees Jooheon, repeating it silently to himself every time he holds him, kisses him, fucks him. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

Since the first time he said it, Gunhee hasn’t said it again.

Some things get easier as time passes. Jooheon keeps himself busy composing, while Gunhee spends his hours in the practice room. It feels strange without Jooheon there too, sweating with him, stopping between rehearsals to joke around and tease him. The initial shock, hurt, and anger has worn off, only to leave a pervasive feeling of emptiness in its wake. It subsides when Gunhee finds Jooheon again at the end of the day, tucked away in his work room. He spends as much time with Jooheon as he possibly can, either there or an empty practice room, or a corner of the building where no one is likely to find them. Sometimes they'll walk home together or go get coffee, and other times Jooheon will come by the dorm, press Gunhee into the mattress of his old bunk while the others busy themselves elsewhere. Jooheon’s kisses numb the hurt, if only for a few hours, but as a result it’s harder for Gunhee to be without him.

They learn to be more careful, and Gunhee learns how to make Jooheon feel safe, kissing him where no one could possibly see, keeping silent when they fuck, trying not to allude to anything when they’re around other people—even Hyunwoo, Hoseok, Kihyun, and the others who Gunhee trusts—but Jooheon is still afraid. Gunhee’s afraid he’ll always be afraid. He doesn’t know how else to make this easier for him. It’s exhausting enough trying to keep it a secret, even for both their sakes. Sometimes he slips up.

A month before debut, the stylists dye Gunhee’s hair blond. Jooheon can’t seem to stop running his fingers through it. “Fuck, this is so weird,” he says, tugging on Gunhee’s bangs. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Jooheon sits at the far wall of the practice room with Gunhee’s head lying in his lap, his limbs sprawled out, his body sweat slicked from dancing for most of the night. The others are there too—Hyunwoo and Hyungwon are going over a few of the dance steps, Kihyun and Minhyuk are memorizing lyrics, Hoseok and Changkyun are stretching—but it’s okay. After some convincing on Gunhee’s part, Jooheon has begun to be more affectionate with him around the members, even if he still feels the hesitation in his touch. It’s not as if he and Gunhee weren’t touchy in front of people before. To anyone else, nothing seems different, at least they hope. 

Jooheon lets Gunhee’s hair fall back into his face, fried from bleach like an egg yolk in a hot pan. It’s going to take a while for Gunhee to get used to the idol treatment, the constant poking and prodding of stylists and makeup artists, skin care routines, hair care routines, diets, dance lessons, vocal practice, rap practice, and dance practice everyday. 

“How does it look?” Gunhee asks, a smirk on his lips.

“It suits you.”

“Does it?”

“No idea,” Jooheon says, “But you look like an idol.”

Gunhee isn’t sure whether it’s a compliment or not. He reaches up to run his hand through the hair peaking underneath the hood of Jooheon’s sweatshirt—dark, thick, close-cropped, messy and unstyled. 

“Should I shave my head again?” Jooheon asks jokingly as Gunhee’s fingers brush through the growing ends. 

Gunhee is barely thinking straight—exhausted from practicing the choreography fifteen times over the last hour, almost oblivious of the other people around them, intoxicated by Jooheon’s fingers running through his hair—when his answer leaves his mouth. “No, keep it like this. I like having something to tug on.”

He regrets it immediately, realization hitting him the second it passes his lips. Jooheon’s face pales, his eyes immediately glancing up to see if anyone noticed. From across the room, Hoseok and Hyunwoo are looking at Gunhee with equally confused expressions. Pain spreads across the back of Gunhee’s skull when Jooheon pushes him out of his lap and his head bumps against the hardwood floor. Jooheon quickly gets to his feet and disappears out the practice room door.

Kihyun looks up from his sheets of music. “What was that all about?” he asks, but Gunhee is already out the door, following Jooheon down the empty hallways, outside the backdoor of the building and into the street. Gunhee hugs his t-shirt closer to his body as the frigid, mid April wind hits him. 

“Is this what it’s always gonna be like with you?” Gunhee asks when he catches up to him. His throat feels tight enough to choke the air out of his chest. “I’m so fucking tired of it, Jooheon. So what if our friends know? So what if anyone knows? Maybe I want them to.”

Jooheon stops in his tracks and turns around to face him. “You’re a fucking idiot, Gun-ah,” he says, anger leaking through his voice in tendrils. “You know what’ll happen if they find out about us. Stop lying to yourself.”

Gunhee doesn’t want to think about it. He ignores him. “Only if you stop acting like a fucking child,” he says.

It might be the cruelest thing he’s ever said to Jooheon, and they’ve had fights before. Gunhee knows how scared Jooheon is. He knows all about the anxiety, the times Jooheon came to him, on the verge of panic, only to be kissed and comforted and told it’s okay and nothing is going to happen. Gunhee knows how hurtful his words are. They sink heavy inside his stomach like stones, but still flow free from his mouth. 

“I’m acting like a child?” Jooheon scoffs. “Your stupid joke almost got us found out.”

Gunhee takes a step forward, reaching out to grab Jooheon’s arm before he can walk away. “Is that really all you care about? Blaming me?”

“Fuck you, Gunhee,” Jooheon shouts, pushing him away.

“Fuck you too,” Gunhee says. It comes out much softer than he intends. 

When the echoes of their argument die in the air of the alleyway, the night sounds that much quieter. He hears the rev of a car engine, someone’s dog barking, the beep of construction equipment somewhere far away, and briefly forgets what they were fighting about in the first place. Gunhee’s anger has fizzled out underneath his skin, allowing him to feel the cold again. It burns almost as badly. He rubs at his bare arms and looks over at Jooheon.

“Come back inside,” Gunhee tells Jooheon after a minute. “It’s freezing out.”

Jooheon shakes his head, slumping against the wall of the company building. Still feeling hurt and bitter, Gunhee almost leaves him there and retreats back inside, but his heart drops in his chest at the thought of leaving him alone in the cold. Gunhee stands beside him, clueless about what to say. No words seem fitting after the wounding ones they just exchanged. 

“Are you okay?” is the only thing Gunhee can think of.

“Not really,” Jooheon says.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Jooheon doesn’t respond.

“Is this it?” Gunhee asks sombrely once he can’t stand the quiet anymore. “Is it over for us?”

Gunhee isn’t sure what answer he’s expecting to hear. He doesn't even know what he wants himself. He remembers what Jooheon said in the beginning. _It’s not worth it._  Even after all this, Gunhee refuses to believe him. Maybe that’s more telling than anything.

“I don’t know, Gun-ah,” Jooheon says softly. “Back when you kissed me, you told me you wouldn’t take it back.”

“I still haven’t.” 

It’s too late to take it back now, Gunhee thinks, I love you.

“We’ve gotten into a fucking mess, I know that,” Jooheon sighs. His eyes look glassy. Maybe from the wind or maybe from something else. “But sometimes I think it’s worth something.”

Gunhee can’t keep it in any longer. “I love you, Jooheon,” he says.

Jooheon glances up at him hesitantly, his expression broken. Gunhee catches his face in his hands before he can look away again. His cheeks are wet underneath Gunhee’s fingers. 

“I love you, okay? I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Gunhee,” Jooheon says, his voice strained.

“Me too.”

—

They don’t fight about it again. 

As Gunhee’s debut nears, practices become longer and more frequent, and so do recording sessions, photoshoots, clothes fittings and finally the filming of their music video. It’s a week before debut when Gunhee finally gets substantial time to himself, and time to spend with Jooheon. As always, he finds him in his work room, headphones on, listening to something Gunhee can only just hear, muffled and fuzzy. Gunhee leans over the top of Jooheon’s chair and kisses the crown of his head, nuzzling his nose into his hair before reaching over and slipping the headphones off his ears.

“Hey, Jooheonie.”

Jooheon turns around, a smile on his face. “Hey.”

Gunhee kisses him chastely, his hand resting against his jaw briefly, then dropping back down to his side. “It’s nice outside,” he says. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

It’s much warmer out than it used to be, springtime edging on the rough beginnings of summer. The air feels light, and the sun is a warm kiss against Gunhee’s cheeks. They walk side by side down the street, shoes clapping against the sidewalk, their shadows running after them. It’s different being with Jooheon so openly, especially in the daytime, but it’s a welcomed change. In the last few weeks, Jooheon has been less anxious, letting Gunhee lean against him around others, always smiling back, meeting Gunhee’s eyes comfortably, less shame and guilt and embarrassment. Maybe it’s because they’ve tried to be more open with each other, or maybe it’s because Jooheon has kept himself so busy composing, writing lyrics, creating beats, and discussing what he’s been working on with Gunhee whenever he can.

But sometimes there are bad days, bad days when Gunhee’s chest feels heavy and tightand empty. And there are weeks when they hardly see each other and Jooheon tells Gunhee he misses him until the words stop sounding like words and lose their meaning. The good days always outweigh the bad days, but Gunhee’s unsure what will happen to those good days when he begins seeing Jooheon less and less after debut. 

Gunhee buys them coffee from the shop across the street and they sit snugly together on a park bench. It’s the same park bench they sat on months ago, when the weather was still cold, soon after Gunhee had kissed Jooheon for the first time. They sit in comfortable silence, watching students lug backpacks on their shoulders and couples with children pass by. Jooheon sips his iced Americano through a bright green straw, jiggling the ice inside the plastic cup. He leans against Gunhee’s side and sighs.

“I, um, forgot to tell you, but I finished writing all the songs for my mixtape,” Jooheon says, beaming proudly. “A couple days ago I got the go-ahead to start working with the producers on recording the tracks.”

“Jooheon, that’s fucking amazing.”

Gunhee knows Jooheon isn’t the type to lie down for long, but after everything he’s been through Gunhee didn’t expect him back on his feet so quickly either. The company must have something else in store for him. Gunhee could never imagine Jooheon’s talent going to waste.

Gunhee shoves Jooheon in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“It didn’t come up,” Jooheon reasons, still smiling wide. “Plus, you were kinda busy.”

Gunhee rolls his eyes, but it’s an unintentional reminder of what he’s been worrying about as his debut nears. “When are you planning on releasing it?”

“Whenever the company says so, I guess,” Jooheon says. “After you’ve debuted and finished promoting though I’m sure.” 

Once they finish their coffees, they walk along the pathways of the park, weaving in and out of the shade. The air smells like freshly mowed grass and pollen. Beds of flowers poke through the dirt, blues and pinks and yellows and purples. Jooheon picks a dandelion from a patch of weeds and stuffs it behind Gunhee’s ear. 

“It matches.”

On the playground, children swing from the monkey bars and shout as they spiral down the slides, and dog walkers leisurely stroll through with sunglasses perched on their noses. Jooheon stoops down to pet an especially excited puppy that’s sniffing at his legs. He shakes its paw and laughs when the puppy wags its tail and licks his fingers. Jooheon smiles up at Gunhee and Gunhee smiles back, crouching down to pat the dog as well.

“I should get a dog,” Jooheon says after waving goodbye to his new friend and thanking the owner. 

“You’re gonna replace me with a dog?” Gunhee asks, watching the puppy stop to sniff something in the grass before bouncing down the street out of sight. 

“Well, I need someone to keep me company while you’re at broadcast stations, and fan signs, and fan meetings, and concerts,” Jooheon says.

Gunhee’s face falls at the thought. Jooheon notices, frowning and reaching over to briefly wrap an arm around Gunhee’s shoulders. “I was just joking, Gun-ah. I’m not gonna replace you.”

“It’s not that,” Gunhee explains. “I’m just—I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” Jooheon admits. “But it’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I still might get a dog though.”

“Are you gonna name him after me?”

Jooheon thinks about it for a second, his hand resting underneath his chin. “Sharp dog,” he muses. “Y’know, it has a bit of a ring to it.” 

“Please don't name your dog that.” Gunhee can’t contain his laughter.

They stay out longer than they should, lounging out in the shade of a thickly trunked tree, sprawled in the grass. Jooheon hums something indistinct, the top of his head touching Gunhee’s thigh. Today is one of the better days. Jooheon is happy, carefree and relaxed like he should be, and Gunhee isn’t as worried about everything when he’s lying next to him. 

He wishes they could stay like this.

—

Gunhee can barely believe it.

In less than twenty-four hours, he will officially debut.

Even knowing all the work leading up to this, it doesn’t feel all real. Sometimes Gunhee thinks one day he’ll blink and everything in front of him will disappear. He’ll open his eyes and be at the very beginning again—an amateur rapper with little direction and less confidence somehow chosen by an entertainment company. Or back when he first met Jooheon—closed off and friendless when a boy with the deepest dimples he’d ever seen asked to hang out with him. Or maybe he’ll wake up and be on that platform again—panicked and confused because he hasn’t heard Jooheon’s name called, the spotlight burning hot through his skin. 

But all of that is in the past.

And now he’s here.

He doesn’t understand any of it. 

Gunhee spends most of the day going over the last few details with the rest of the group in preparation for their showcase. He’s in the practice room discussing something with Hyunwoo for their stages when he gets a phone call from his mother. His heart pulls in his chest as soon as he recognizes her number. He excuses himself and answers it in the hallway. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Gunhee?”

“Hi, mom.”

“How are you?” 

Hearing her voice calms Gunhee’s nerves like the opening chords of a familiar song. 

“I’m okay. Nervous, but I’m okay,” he admits plainly, not wanting to worry. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she says. Gunhee can almost hear her smile. “Are you eating okay?”

_Sometimes._

“Yes.”

“Sleeping well?”

_Not too much._

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“You’ll listen to our album when it comes out, right?”

She chuckles. “Yes, I will. I’ll buy a thousand copies.”

Gunhee smiles to himself. “I’m doing all of this for you, mom,” he reminds her. “To make you proud, and to make you happy.” 

“You already make me happy, Gunhee,” she assures. “I’m as proud as any mother can be. You need to know that.”

Gunhee swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you for everything, mom.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know you’ll work hard, Gunhee-yah,” she says, “For everyone who’s with you and for everyone who’s not.”

“I will,” Gunhee says, trying desperately not to sound as choked up over the phone as he really is. 

Gunhee shoves his phone back in his pocket after she hangs up. 

_I know you’ll work hard, for everyone who’s with you and for everyone who’s not._

Gunhee wanders down the hallway, feeling nostalgia underneath his feet at every step. He passes practice rooms he’s spent years training in, but stops when he meets the camo green lockers at the end of the hall. Memories of all the times he and Jooheon spent here hit him in waves. He remembers how much they used to goof around, writing silly rhymes together they would never use, laughing their asses off when they should have been practicing for evaluation. Some lockers have stickers plastered all over them, different brand logos or the names of hip-hop artists. The front of Jooheon’s locker is bare except for his own name tag. Gunhee smiles and pokes the cartoon Piglet he drew there, however long ago.  Their lockers line up next to each other.

Lee Jooheon right beside Song Gunhee. 

They always thought it would be that way, didn’t they?

_For everyone who’s with you and for everyone who’s not._

Gunhee crosses the floor to Jooheon’s work room. Jooheon has since taken off the piece of paper that was taped to the porthole window of his door so the warm light shines in. Gunhee peers inside, but he’s not there. 

_For everyone who’s not._

Gunhee sinks to the floor, his back pressed hard against the lockers so he can feel the cool metal through the thin fabric of his shirt. Down the hall, a practice room door creaks open and Hyunwoo pokes his head out.

“Gunhee? We’re gonna go over our placements one more time.”

“Yeah, um, I’ll be there in a second, hyung.”

Hyunwoo peers at him. “You alright?”

“I just need to think for a bit.”

Hyunwoo, experienced with Gunhee’s moods by now, nods and lets him be.

Gunhee rakes his hands through his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s so upset. Maybe it’s his nerves, or the lack of sleep, or maybe the stress is finally getting to him. He knows he should be excited, happy, thankful. He is in some way, but the same feelings that engulfed him seconds before Jooheon was eliminated pierce him again. Everything feels wrong. Painful. Like things weren’t supposed to happen this way, but somehow they did. Gunhee leans back and bumps his head against the locker door. It rattles. He does it again, and then a third time, and then again and again until the back of his skull is throbbing underneath his skin. 

“Gunhee?” someone says softly. 

When Gunhee looks up, Jooheon is kneeling in front of him, a hand gripping his knee protectively. Jooheon’s notebook lies on the floor beside him, music sheets sticking out through the pages. Gunhee didn’t hear him come down the hall. He must have been somewhere else composing since he wasn’t in his work room. Gunhee wonders if Hyunwoo found Jooheon and told him he was upset.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Jooheon asks and suddenly Gunhee realizes he’s crying. He looks down to hide his face, tears dripping off his eyelashes onto the front of his t-shirt. “Are you okay, Gun-ah?”

Gunhee sniffs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Jooheon tucks himself beside him and pulls his knees up to his chest. Gunhee doesn’t respond, reluctant to answer Jooheon’s question honestly, but not wanting to lie to him either. 

“I’m debuting tomorrow,” Gunhee says flatly, a compromise. 

Jooheon half-smiles. “Yeah, I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you?”

“Of course I am.” 

For some reason, it’s hard for Gunhee to hear. They’ve both been so bitter and angry throughout this entire process that accepting it feels a lot like giving up. But what else can they do? More tears pool in Gunhee’s eyes. He blinks and they spill down his cheeks. Jooheon reaches over to wipe the corners of Gunhee’s eyes with his thumb.

“You look cute when you cry,” he teases, attempting to cheer him up somehow. It’s unlikely jokes will make any of this better, but he always tries anyways. “Cuter than me at least.” Gunhee laughs a little, but the tears keeps rolling down unaffected. “Shit, Gunhee, come here.” 

He pulls him into a crushing hug. It makes Gunhee feel better and worse simultaneously. Jooheon’s arms are warm and safe, but only remind Gunhee what he’ll be missing so badly in the next few days, or weeks, or months. Everything is either uncertain or in the hands of someone else. Gunhee doesn’t know when he’ll be together with Jooheon like this again. 

There’s nothing Gunhee can think to do but sink into him and try to quiet the unbidden sobs pouring out. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” he mumbles against Jooheon’s shoulder, barely coherent. “I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re gonna be,” Jooheon reassures him, rubbing his back. “It’s just a lot to take in right now, yeah?”

Gunhee nods shakily, gripping onto Jooheon like a lifeline. They stay glued together for what feels like a long time, even after Gunhee stops shivering and his tears begin to slow. A younger trainee passes by them in the hallway, but Jooheon still doesn’t move. Gunhee feels him tense, but Jooheon holds onto him still, brushing his fingers lightly through his hair. His arms are locked tight around him, unwilling to let go. 

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” Gunhee says once his voice is steady enough to use again. He reaches around Jooheon to rub his face with the edge of his sleeve, but most of the tears are dry on his cheeks, soaked into Jooheon’s sweater instead, a round damp spot on his shoulder. 

“You aren’t, Gunhee.” Jooheon frowns. “I promise I’m gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay too,” he says, then breaks away just enough from Gunhee to take his face in his hands. He looks straight at him, eyes concerned and searching. “ _We’re_ going to be okay, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Good.”

No one is around to hear him say it, but it doesn’t matter. Even in a crowded room, Gunhee would say it a thousand times. “I love you.” 

The words catch Jooheon off guard. His lip trembles like he’s trying to hold himself together, or hold something in. Gunhee knows he won’t say it back. Despite everything, Jooheon is still afraid all of this will come crashing down on their heads. Admittedly Gunhee fears it too, and maybe one day it will, but for the time being they’re okay. That’s all that matters. 

“I’ll be here when you get back, Gun-ah,” Jooheon says, then hugs Gunhee even tighter against him. “I’ll always be here.”

It’s the closest thing to an ‘I love you too’ that Gunhee has ever gotten from him.

But it’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> i say i'm over no mercy, but then i go and write shit like this. this is for whoever wrote that prompt and broke my heart lmao
> 
> follow me on twitter @inkquells if you want
> 
> also for anyone who reads [love the stars, love the moon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6808957/chapters/15547531), the next chapter will be up soon! i just want to take my time with it


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